Page 2 of The Heir
A young man said, “We French aren’t religious. It’s seems foolish to me that our ancestors would fight over the name of their gods.”
“Oui, I agree with Victor,” one of the French women said.
My mother continued, “If we had met five hundred or a thousand years ago, we would most likely all have been religious. Historically, it was a part of cultural acceptance and a way to fit in. It’s not unthinkable that we would have gotten into a loud argument about whether to worship Jehovah, Allah, Shiva, or maybe some of the ancient gods like Odin and Zeus.”
The young man named Victor shifted his balance and raised his chin. “It’s possible that you all would have discussed such nonsense, but not us French. We’re far too intelligent to waste our time with such idiocy. If humanity had seven thousand gods and everyone thought they knew the right one, that means they agreed way more than they disagreed. If they could agree not to believe in six thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine gods, then what’s one more?”
My mom chuckled. “You have a point, Victor, but back then faith often outweighed logic.”
“Seems it still does here in the Motherlands. It’s illogical to have priestesses in a country that banned religion.”
I smiled. He had a point, and I loved people who weren’t afraid to express themselves.
“Again, good point,” my mother said. “It’s a long story, but the short answer is that although we don’t have any official religions left, people still need to feel that they are part of something bigger than themselves. We priestesses are caretakers of sorts. We hold ancient wisdom, lost to modern people, and I would dare say that even though we Motlanders aren’t religious, we are spiritual and live according to spiritual laws.”
The French man wrinkled his nose. “What does that mean?”
“Spiritual laws are the foundational ones that hold civilized societies together. You’ll know them as unity, equality, fairness, knowledge, justice, freedom, respect, love, and peace. I could go on, but I’m sure you get the picture, yes?”
The French nodded.
“We priestesses are theologians, but we don’t preach. Nor do we advertise doctrines of religion like in the olden days where priests would dictate how people should live their lives. Back then people believed in heaven and hell and many lived in fear and remorse. We try to empower and support people to be their best version. We teach about love and forgiveness.”
“What does that have to do with energy work?” Thor asked with a hint of impatience, as if this all seemed boring to him.
“Thank you for that question, Thor. It has a lot to do with energy work. Love and forgiveness are some of the keys to feeling balance and allowing energy to flow freely through you.”
“Pardon, but what does this energy work do?” one of the two French girls asked.
“Many things. Energy can be used to heal, align, and support, and to help you manifest things. It all depends on how you tap into it. Would you like us to give you an example?”
“Oui.”
With a small nod, my mother instructed me to use the firepit. As I walked closer and used a stick to poke at the flames, smoke rose.
“My daughter Linea has trained in energy work since she was a few years old. She is extremely gifted and will now demonstrate how she can direct the smoke from the fire in whatever direction she chooses.”
It was a task I’d mastered when I was seven and shouldn’t be a problem, but it was impossible for me to still my heart and shut out Thor’s whispering.
Holding out my hands, I tried to concentrate, but nothing happened. Embarrassed, I tried again.
“It’s okay, I know you can do it. I saw it last summer,” Freya encouraged me and the Motlanders chimed in with supportive comments, but all I could hear was Thor laughing.
Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him, feeling humiliated. “Would you mind?”
Thor stood leaning back with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. “Maybe it’s a good thing you can’t do it. Back in the old days people would have thrown you into the flames for practicing witchcraft.”
My face warmed and I suspected it was starting to match my flaming red hair in color. “I’m not a witch!”
“I wishIwas a witch,” Aubri said in support, but I hardly registered her.
“It’s fine. Allow me to demonstrate and then we’ll let you try for yourself.” My mother walked over to stand next to me, held out her hand and pulled the smoke in a straight vertical line.
“Whoa!” The French made sounds of surprise.
“Everything is energy. It’s something spiritual masters and indigenous people have understood for millennia. People have called it different things and unfortunately the practitioners were often accused of supernatural powers. Nothing could be further from the truth. We all have the ability to do energy work but as with everything else it requires practice.
“Now, I brought fifteen sticks. I want you to set them on fire and focus your energy on directing the smoke. After that we’ll teach you an easy technique to heal someone of a headache.”
